


lovesick

by ajarofgoodthings



Category: Reign (TV), The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Families of Choice, Friends to Lovers, Modern Era, Slow Burn, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 14:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13101870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajarofgoodthings/pseuds/ajarofgoodthings
Summary: It starts when Mary is late to her 8:30 am Poli Sci lecture.Well, no. It starts the night before, when her boyfriend shows up smelling like someone tried to drown him in a bar sink; and then Mary sleeps on the couch because he throws up on her bed, and she forgets to set her alarm and her coffeemaker isn't working and -She's late. It starts when she's late.





	lovesick

It starts when Mary is late to her 8:30 am Poli Sci lecture.

Well, no. It starts the night before, when her boyfriend shows up smelling like someone tried to drown him in a bar sink; and then Mary sleeps on the couch because he throws up on her bed, and she forgets to set her alarm and her coffeemaker isn't working and -

She's late. It starts when she's late.

-

There's someone in her seat, and normally she wouldn't _care_ , but Professor d'Medici has a tendency to single her out for reasons that sit somewhere between Mary dumping her son, Francis, just over a year ago, and her apparent decision that Mary's going to be the first female President, or something. A grudge coupled with a lot of favouritism - it doesn't make a lot of _sense_ ; but it means Mary always sits front and centre.

Except, again, _there's someone in her seat._

She thinks she's seen the girl before - there's something vaguely familiar to the caramel tan of her skin; which, Mary notes with extra irritation, is _definitely_ natural - and the honey-blonde of loose waves over high cheekbones. She's pretty. She's _really_ pretty; and she's lounging in it, flower-print maxi skirt flowing as she rocks her foot back and forth to the beat of whatever's blaring through her earbuds. She's lounging in _Mary's seat_ ; and to add insult to injury, she's got a Venti Starbucks sitting on the little half-desk, next to an open notebook and enviable collection of Uniball pens.

She's trying to decide if she's going to _say_ something when the girl looks up, and Mary bites down in the back of her jaw, squaring her shoulders against her urge to look away. She's not usually a shy person - straightforward, confident; but she's _exhausted_ , and Darnley is _exhausting_ and probably still passed out on her bathroom floor and she's going to have to finish the _ridiculous_ argument that she still doesn't entirely understand with him once she gets home, if he doesn't start blowing up her phone the moment he's conscious. _All_ she wants is to sit in _her_ seat and get the miniscule amount of prep in she's going to be allowed by the two minutes and forty five seconds she has before d'Medici shows up - because she is always, _always_ on time.

So Mary is _not in the fucking mood_.

And the girl tilts her head, hair falling away to reveal a dangling drop earring under three simple silver studs, and a bar through the top of her ear. She smiles, somewhere between polite and confused and, Mary thinks, _a little bit challenging_ , and raises an eyebrow.

"I don't remember the last time someone was _dumbstruck_ just looking at me. I'm flattered, though - I didn't even do my eyebrows today."

It's not what Mary expects her to say. She's not sure _what_ exactly it is that her under caffeinated, underslept sleep brain _did_ expect, but it's not that. And _fuck her_ , anyway; her eyebrows are perfect.

"That's my seat," Mary manages, and the girl's eyebrow arches even higher as she drops back in her seat.

"I know I've skipped a few lectures, but Medici doesn't really seem the type for assigned seating," she's smirking, just a little bit, lips glossed in some kind of _ridiculously_ perfect dusty rose and - yeah, Mary hates her. Like, she doesn't know anything about her and she's probably a very nice girl and Mary isn't really in the business of hating people _but she hates her_.

"She's not, but that's been my seat every lecture - none of which have _I_ skipped - since the beginning of the semester," Mary explains, tucking her thumb between her shoulder and the strap of her messenger bag. A glance at the clock tells her she's got, maybe, a minute and a half left.

"Probably about time to give somewhere else a shot, then. The back left corner of the hall gets the best air conditioning," the girl suggests, languid as she points her pen over her shoulder to gesture. Mary bites her tongue on her exclamation - the _back?!_ \- and forces herself to take a breath.

Within that breath, she realizes that the girl is like, _sizing her up_ . And Mary _knows_ she looks like a mess - she'd had to rush getting ready around Darnley's prone form, passed out on her bathroom floor, and had ended up bobby-pinning her hair into some semblance of a submissive bun and hadn't managed to get any makeup on. She _had_ , however, ignored her overwhelming desire for sweatpants and put on jeans, and a real bra, and a black blazer over a relatively nice t-shirt.

She doesn't look _great_ . But she definitely doesn't look _bad enough_ for the girl to be appraising her like this, slow and pointed and _judge-y_ as her eyes drift from the Vans flats Mary is pretty sure are actually Greer's back to her face.

"Look," Mary starts, free hand coming up in a fingers-spread, plaintive sort of _fucking listen to me_ jerk of a gesture. "As soon as this class is over I'm going to have to go buy a new coffeemaker, and a new set of sheets, arguably a new mattress, because my idiot boyfriend vomited half a brewery all over my bedroom last night, and then I have to go home and _continue_ my argument with him in a way that hopefully puts an end to it fast enough for me to actually start my research paper in some semblance of time that _won't_ have me up for another twenty four hours on the forty-five minutes I got last night. Which is going to be hard, because he's probably not going to _remember_ the fight, and then he's going to make some sleazy comment about breaking in the new sheets, so just - could you please just, move? You _obviously_ don't actually care, so just, please?"

The girl almost looks some sort of _impressed_ , fingers flicking to spin her pen around her knuckles and foot still swinging as she considers - and then in a single, fluid movement, she's sliding her notebook and coffee off the desk and flipping it up, depositing the former in an oversized purse Mary's upbringing allows her to immediately, with surprise, identify as a Valentino.

And she's relieved - for a moment. She goes to press her tongue to the backs of her teeth to start a _thank you_ , thumb jerking the strap of her bag from her shoulder - but then the girl is grabbing her free hand, French-tipped fingers wrapping coolly around Mary's wrist.

"You need a break, I think. Maybe a drink, too, but let's start with coffee. I'll buy."

And Mary stalls; her brain short-circuits for a second, because the propriety of her life hasn't ever really allowed for things like intimate contact with _strangers_ , and this girl's fingers are running from her wrist to fit between Mary's own, and she's got _class_ , and she thought this girl was a _bitch_ , but now she's offering to buy her coffee - but her seat is finally free and Catherine is going to be here any second and -

"Stop thinking. It's Mary, right? Do you really want to spend the next two hours having Medici chirping at you? What's her _deal_ about you, anyway? You obviously have to like, _not_ , for a minute - so let's just go _not_ and get some kind of caffeine and over-sugared pastry in you, okay?"

Stop thinking. _Stop thinking_ . Mary _isn't_ thinking, and her sputtering neurons manage, "I dated her son," as some kind of explanation, and the girl actually _smiles_ at her.

"That makes us kind of related, or something. Let's _go_ ," and she tugs, and her hand is cool and soft against Mary's, and coffee sounds _good_ and she didn't get to eat breakfast, so - so she follows, the pound of her feet absurdly loud on the metal staircase of the bleacher seating, and throws a glance back through the tiny windows of the closing lecture hall doors to see Catherine staring up at her with an expression somewhere between _pissed off_ and _approving_ that Mary can't think too hard about right now, because the girl still hasn't let go of her hand.

-

_Greer Kinross ( 8:42 )_

_hey, are you okay?_

_Greer Kinross  ( 8:42 )_

_we heard you fighting with darnley last night and I thought you kicked him out, but james just tripped over him in the bathroom._

_Greer Kinross  ( 8:42 )_

_what happened?_

**_Mary Stuart ( 8:45 )_ **

**_he threw up everywhere and passed out, i slept on the couch_ **

_Greer Kinross  ( 8:46 )_

_oh my god, gross. do you need me to clean anything up before it stains?_

_Greer Kinross  ( 8:47 )_

_or toss it? cause, gross. really gross._

**_Mary Stuart ( 8:50 )_ **

**_i already did, but thanks g_ **

_Greer Kinross ( 8:52 )_

_ok, i don't want to bother you, i know you're in class, when will you be home? we can talk then_

_Greer Kinross( 8:52 )_

_should i let james kick darnley out? he really wants to kick him out_

**_Mary Stuart ( 8:57 )_ **

**_i'm not in class_ **

**_Mary Stuart ( 8:57 )_ **

**_james can have at it, i don't know when i'll be home_ **

_Greer Kinross ( 8:59 )_

_you're not in class???????_

_Greer Kinross ( 8:59 )_

_???????????????????????_

_Greer Kinross ( 9:00 )_

_are you okay????????_

_Greer Kinross  ( 9:07 )_

_marie elizabeth cecily stuart answer me right now, your overachieving ass wouldn't skip medici's class unless you were dying_

_Greer Kinross ( 9:07  )_

_are you dying?????????_

**_Mary Stuart ( 9:09 )_ **

**_i'm fine_ **

**_Mary Stuart ( 9:10 )_ **

**_there was a girl in my seat and i kind of freaked out at her and she decided i need coffee and sugar_ **

**_Mary Stuart ( 9:10 )_ **

**_i wasn't really in a position to argue, i actually think i might've started crying if catherine went after me today_ **

_Greer Kinross ( 9:11 )_

_what girl?_

_Greer Kinross ( 9:11 )_

_stranger danger_

**_Mary Stuart ( 9:15 )_ **

**_her name is kenna_ **

-

Mary expects Starbucks, but they end up at an IHop.

They take Kenna's car, a blue Lexus Mary can't identify the model of but knows is _nice_ , but unassuming - much like Kenna's purse. The inside smells like eucalyptus and spearmint and _clean_ , and she's got tiny fuzzy dice and a prism crystal hanging from her rearview mirror, throwing speckles of light across the roof of the car.

It's cute, and she's got some kind of pop music that sounds like it _could_ be top forty but isn't sitting at a level that could lead to comfortable silence between them, or still let them talk - but Mary's still apprehensive. She doesn't _do_ this; she doesn't skip class, she doesn't get in cars with strangers - and Kenna's unhurried demeanor is as intimidating as it is comforting. She doesn't seem bothered, by anything, and it's stressing Mary _the hell out_.

"So, uh, what did you mean by 'practically related?'" She asks eventually, once the waitress seats them at a booth in the back corner of the restaurant, offering them laminated menus with badly-sealed edges. A smile cuts across Kenna's face as she takes her sunglasses off, violet-purple Ray bans that would probably look ostentatious on anyone else, but kind of _suit_ against the bronze of her skin.

"Medici's - uh, stepson? That's not really the right word, she never adopted him, or ever really liked him all that much. Anyway, he's my roommate and my best friend. You've probably met him, if you dated Francis. Bash?"

And she _has_ . Mary feels heat rise in her cheeks and presses her lips together, clearing her throat. She'd started dating Francis Junior year of highschool, and she'd met Bash when she'd met his parents; he'd been the older, cooler brother, wearing a leather jacket and roguish smile under eyes that were the same shade as Francis', but somehow incredibly more cutting. Mary had harbored a crush for like, a _while_ \- which, along with his inability to consider _her_ ambition, and goals, and _wants_ to be of the same importance of his, was part of the reason she and Francis had broken up.

Mary doesn't say that. She nods, hoping Kenna didn't notice her blush, or hesitation, even though she definitely did because she's _looking_ at Mary again, like before, like some kind of appraisement or judgment or _something_ \- and makes a noncommittal kind of ' _yes_ ' noise.

"I've met him," she confirms, grateful for something to do with her hands when the waitress returns with her coffee; the first of what will definitely be many cups, Mary wraps both hands securely around the classically off-white diner mug and pulls it to her.

"Yeah. Medici hates him, basically - which is why she ignores me in class," and Mary nods along, bringing the mug to her mouth; she hasn't really _noticed_ that, but she can't see it when anyone behind her puts up their hand and she's usually too focused on making sure she doesn't fuck up when inevitably becoming the target of Catherine’s harping. "Also," Kenna goes on, and the coffee tastes like _literal actual heaven_ , "I fucked her ex-husband."

Mary chokes. Full on gasps into her coffee and ends up half inhaling it, spilling across the chipping vinyl of the table when she slams the mug down and smacks her hand against her chest. She coughs, and coughs again, and takes the glass of water Kenna slides towards her to sip and try to force herself to hack the rest of it out, pressing her napkin to her mouth and feeling nothing but utter _humiliation_ alongside _trying_ _not to die_.

"I probably should've waited until you swallowed to mention that part," and Mary shoots her a _look_ , smacking her hand against her chest again as she tries to dislodge the last of the coffee. Kenna has the decency to look at least _vaguely_ guilty. "Sorry,"

"What did you - how did you - how did you even - _what?_ " Mary manages, fully aware of her stuttering but unable to collect her thoughts enough to form a sentence. Because she knows Mr. Valois; and he's a total pig, absolutely, because she also knows Bash is less Catherine's stepson and more the illegitimate child of an illicit affair whom Mr. Valois had joint custody of. But Kenna _can't_ be all that much older than Mary - maybe a little bit, if she's friends with Bash, but still; that's like, early twenties, and Mr. Valois is in his fifties, and he's the _Governor_ , and that's just - not okay. It's not okay, and Mary feels oddly pissed off about it; like, protectively pissed off.

Kenna just shrugs.

"A couple years ago. I went over to hangout with Bash, but some edibles he'd gotten from Claude were like, _really strong_ , and he didn't know, and wasn't even a person when I got there. He passed out at like, seven or something, so I went downstairs to get something to eat and Henri was there," Kenna shrugs again, finger tracing the rim of her water glass. She's wearing a lot of rings, Mary notices; some thin and stacked, one sized small to fit above her knuckle on her first finger, some set with heavy stones. Mary can't decide if they're real or not. "We started talking, he asked if I wanted a drink. It just kind of happened," and Kenna's not looking at Mary; she's looking at her own hand - Mary's not sure Kenna's actually _talking_ to her. She doesn't seem like the type to be ashamed of her discretions - and, anyway, Mr. Valois - _Henri_ , gross - is the one who should be ashamed. The downturn in the corner of Kenna's mouth is just adding fuel to the pissed off fire. Which is weird; really weird, because Mary doesn't _know_ this girl.

Except, she's nice. In a weird way, where she was _definitely_ kind of taunting Mary, before, but then decided to buy her breakfast after Mary basically had a breakdown at her - which, just isn't really something people do. It definitely isn't something Mary would have done. Greer might have; but Greer is like, _everyone's_ mom - and this girl doesn't really seem maternal, or anything. She just seems like she wants to help.

"It went on for a while, until I found out he was seeing Bash's mom again. Actually, it went on for a while after that, too - which, super shitty friend move, I _know_ , but he kept talking about how he didn't _really_ love her, he loved me, it was just an election year and he didn't want to put me in a position to be followed around by the press. And the press _loves_ Diane," her finger stops its circle, and her hand drifts back to curl two fingers around the handle of her mug, lifting it. "Anyway, it ended when she caught us and freaked out and he bought her forgiveness back with the diamond ring she'd been jonesing for for the last like, twenty five years," Kenna rolls her eyes, tone dismissive and dark before she takes a sip of her coffee.

"Oh."

Mary can't think of anything else to say. It's pathetic. It's - embarrassing, but she _doesn't know what to say_ . Because she remembers, when Diane found Mr. Valois in bed with, as she'd put it, ' _some stick-figured slut; she didn't even have tits - god, what was she Henri, sixteen?_ ' over the table at Thanksgiving dinner. The woman had a propensity for drama, and Mary's hand clutches around her mug as she tries to reconcile the image she'd had of _that_ with the girl sitting in front of her.

She hadn’t been sixteen - but, simple math has Mary guessing she was probably like, seventeen, _maybe_ eighteen, which _isn't really all that much fucking better_.

"Oh?" Kenna prompts, her brow knit, nails tapping the ceramic of her mug at a pace that almost sounds like anxiety, or maybe anger, and Mary just _looks_ at her, for a second.

"I remember - when that happened. Diane went off about it _really_ publicly. I'm - I'm sorry," she thinks that might be maybe, kind of better, but Kenna just tilts her head to the side. "She's a bitch," Mary adds, and the girl finally breaks into a smile.

"She _is_ a bitch," she agrees, and then she's reaching to tap a finger against Mary's menu, resting untouched on the table. "Get the buttermilk pancakes. Like, _lots_ of them. Carbs and sugar and coffee - get extra whip cream, too. Then, you're going to tell me about your boyfriend; who, frankly, also kind of sounds like a bitch. Seriously, a bottle of Jack? If you're going to get wrecked and show up on your hot girlfriend's doorstep to yell at her in the middle of the night, at least drink something _respectable_ ,"

So, Mary orders pancakes. Lots of them. And has three cups of coffee, and somehow ends up telling Kenna _everything_ \- about how Darnley's twenty-nine to her twenty-one, they'd met through their parents and this isn't the first time he's shown up drunk - '' _Darnley?' is that his real name?' 'It's his last name, he goes by it,' 'Please tell me he's not the kind of guy that has it tattooed across his like, forearm or something. Please. Oh, god,_ **_Mary_ ** _,' -_ and Mary actually thinks he might have a drinking _problem_ , but she'd fallen hard and fast and can't shake the way he'd made her feel, at the beginning, and she still _loves_ him, somehow. And then she tells her more, about Greer, her roommate, who’s older than her, but their mothers were roommates in college and Mary’s known her since she was born - and about how Mary's going to be her Maid of Honor at her wedding to Mary's half-brother James; and then they talk about school, and Kenna's two years older than Mary and majoring in Linguistics, taking Poli Sci classes because she figures she should have some diplomatic ability if she's going to be a translator, and Bash gave her the fuzzy dice in her car and no, they never dated, but she _did_ take his virginity, and she's got two _way_ older brothers - _'it's pretty hard to miss the fact that you were a mistake when your siblings are a decade older than you' -_ and doesn't really get along with her parents, who are both lawyers.

At Kenna's smiling suggestion, the new sheets Mary buys are purple and blue flowers, and they spend the afternoon sitting on them while Mary works on her research paper and ignores Darnley's texts and Kenna silently mouths pronunciations at her laptop while she works her way through a transcription.

When she leaves, after pizza shared with James and Greer while Mary fills them in on the fight - alongside Kenna’s colour commentary - Mary can't get the asymmetry of Kenna’s indulgently warm smile out of her head.

**Author's Note:**

> this au exists in the same compressed generations of simply to endure & the future is forgiven - ie. i've removed a generation, and mary is henry viii's niece, the daughter of his elder sister margaret.
> 
> given the repetition of names between characters, i've altered some character's names to similar nicknames -
> 
> mary tudor, younger sister of henry viii; maren tudor  
> mary tudor, daughter of henry viii & katherine of aragon; maria tudor
> 
> feedback always welcome! Xx. [love my dead favs](http://greenlig-t.tumblr.com)
> 
> inspired by provocative-envy.


End file.
